Originally Posted by
Jerry Oz
I used to be scared to death playing dodge ball. I had a friend named Dave who got a concussion playing in the 7th grade. I didn't know that was possible until then. Of course, hitting someone in the head eliminated the thrower but it happened. I still can hear the sound that the ball made popping off of his face. The rest of the day in class and study hall, his eyes were bloodshot and he was dizzy. In 2018, they'd send him to the ER but in 1974, he just had to kind of rub some dirt on it and go about his day.
And when I made it to high school, my sophomore gym class somehow got combined with my older brother's senior class in a dodge ball match. Of course, the big kids picked us off one at a time. Thanks to my dislike for dodge ball, I hid behind other kids until I was the last one on my team against three on the other side. I collected most of the balls and got lucky throwing one guy out. Then, I caught a ball. Finally, I tried to juke and a kid hit the heel of my foot and the ball popped up about 15 feet in the air and I caught it easily. I got to play hero for a day. Later, my brother [[the most competitive person in my family by far) vented that they would have won if "Pele" hadn't been the last one playing and for the rest of the 10th grade, the seniors called me Pele.
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